2
Houston, Texas
MONDAY, JULY 25, 9:30 A.M.
Xavier Morrow shivered, but he wasn’t cold. It was almost ninety degrees already, for God’s sake.
He was scared. And he didn’t know why, which made him feel stupid. Which pissed him off.
Carlos poked his arm, hard enough to make him wince. “Yo, X.” His best friend was looking around them with a puzzled expression. “Why is your head swiveling on your neck like a rotating fan?”
“I don’t know.” He looked around them again, seeing nothing but people eating breakfast. Just like they did every Monday when he met Carlos at their favorite diner near Rice University’s campus. This place had been Xavier’s home away from home while he’d been in college, and he was going to miss being part of its staff. Still, this morning felt different. “You ever feel like you’re being watched?”
Carlos grinned. “Every time I walk into a bar.”
“Not like that, unfortunately.”
Carlos’s grin became a frown. “What’s going on?”
Xavier shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Carlos’s expression became angry. “It’s that guy, isn’t it? The old dude who visits you sometimes.”
Xavier blinked, surprised. “How... Never mind.” How Carlos learned anything was a mystery best left unsolved. His friend was a true-crime addict and his favorite shows had caused Xavier nearly as many nightmares as the real crime he’d witnessed all those years ago. “No, not today. He, um... He died.”
Carlos’s eyes widened. “What? When? And who was he?” Wide eyes narrowed as he leaned forward over the table. “Was he threatening you?”
“No! He was not threatening me.” Rocky had been more like a guardian angel. “He was a friend of someone I knew a long time ago.”
Which was more or less true. Even though Rocky had never met the woman who’d brought them together. They’d both been scarred that night, just in different ways.
Carlos leaned back in his seat. “Well, I’m sorry he died. Did you go to his funeral?”
Xavier shook his head. “It was in New Orleans. I... Well, I don’t want to go back there.” Not ever again.
Carlos frowned again. “And? Aren’t you going to tell me?”
Xavier opened his mouth, then shut it, unsure of how to answer.
Hell, no. You’d get us both killed for sure.Because Carlos couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.
“It’s not my story to tell,” he finally said. “Please let it go.”
Carlos got uncharacteristically serious. “Why are you afraid, then? You can tell me, X. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” He crossed his heart, then raised his hand as if swearing in court. “Hand to God.”
“I’d tell you if I knew, but I don’t. It’s just—” He exhaled heavily. “I thought I was being followed this morning, but every time I stopped to look, the footsteps behind me stopped.”
But it was his imagination. It had to be. He’d been on edge for the past six weeks, ever since Rocky’s death.
Rocky had always said that there were no coincidences.
“I’ll walk with you, then,” Carlos said with a sharp nod that brooked no argument.
Xavier smiled. “I’m gonna miss you, man.”
It was true. Carlos had been his best friend since the first grade, two kids of color in a sea of white faces. Both brown, Xavier’s skin was a dark walnut like his birth mother’s had been, and Carlos’s was a warm bronze. They’d bonded over nearly everything back then—video games, love of science, hatred of broccoli.
Carlos smiled sadly. “Same goes, hermano. But New York isn’t far from Philly. I already priced the train.”